


something of the wolf

by zombeesknees



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-10
Updated: 2018-12-10
Packaged: 2019-09-15 11:33:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16932507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zombeesknees/pseuds/zombeesknees
Summary: Ruminations on the Bad Wolf. | Written many moons ago on LJ.





	something of the wolf

Once upon a time, when he was another man, he had had this image of her. Her blonde hair, longer then, was pulled back in a girl’s braid, a basket hung from one pale arm, and a dark red hooded cape was draped over her shoulders. The wolf was following them, chasing them, across space and time. By the end, he had found himself looking over his own shoulder, surreptitious glances for the pursuing beast. He had no woodcutter’s axe, but he knew the role he would play should that big bad thing catch up to them. 

And then the wolf had actually appeared, and he was shocked at how wrong he had been. Rarely had he misjudged a thing to such an extent; rarely had the universe crafted such a surprise. And as the Bad Wolf saved him, as he saved her, he knew everything would be different.

In time.

 

He lay across the wide couch in the library of the TARDIS, impossibly long legs stretched akimbo. A stack of spent books from the St. Ann’s Library lay on the floor beside him, giving testament to his focus. Rose was off doing domestic things: shopping for groceries and a new coat, stopping in at a salon for a haircut and facial, visiting Jackie and that blundering idiot Mickey. 

He didn’t mind. He had a guest card with the SAL, a stack of good books he hadn’t read before, and all of the time in the universe. With a smile he finished another novel, set it aside, picked up another entitled _The Tenderness of Wolves_. He didn’t remember picking it out, but the back cover sounded interesting.

One hundred and twenty three pages in, he felt her come home. The hum of the TARDIS shifted slightly—its way of welcoming her back—and he placed a long finger on the line he’d stopped at just as the door swung open. 

She stood in the doorway, framed by the light of the hall, and his mind went back to that once upon a time day. His hearts skipped two beats, and he felt the ghost of fear flash across his consciousness. Rose may have not been in a red cape, but that Wolf _had_ almost taken her from him.

“Whatcha reading?” she asked nonchalantly, tossing a shopping bag aside as she crossed the room, smelling of citrus shampoo and fresh nail polish.

“ _The Tenderness of Wolves_ ,” the Doctor said calmly, no trace of that fleeting fear and memory on his face. 

“Any good?”

“Yes. It’s a historical mystery. Very well-written. The author has a good grasp of 19th-century Canadian social issues.” He began to push himself up from the couch, but her hand against his chest stopped him. 

“Don’t get up on my account,” she said with a toothy smile. “Just wanted to check in, tell you I’m making dinner tonight.”

“Really?” It came out a bit more incredulous than he had wished, and he winced, prepared for an onslaught.

“Such little faith!” she scolded good-naturedly. “I’ll have you know that for the past couple of weeks, while _you_ were tinkering away and singing James Brown off-key, _I’ve_ been practicing my culinary skills. I thought I’d make steak tonight.”

“Treat indeed,” he said with a smile. It was good to see her so happy and unconcerned. They hadn’t had many peaceful days like this lately.

Rose sat on the edge of the couch, her hip brushing against his. She seemed unaware of this, or at least unconcerned with it, but he found himself suddenly gulping. “It’s funny, Doctor. I’ve just been so _hungry_ lately. Like I’m craving something and I can’t put my finger on what.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah, it’s strange. And I feel sort of wound up, like I’ve got all of this energy tied up inside me and I want to do something about it.”

It wasn’t just a trick of the light; it wasn’t just the memory that had drifted to the surface. Rose was glowing beside him—only a faint shimmer, practically invisible to most eyes. But he saw it, with his Time Lord eyes. He had taken the Time Vortex back from her—but just how much had it changed her before he had absorbed it? Did just a tiny amount of that incredible power linger in her cells, in the strands of her hair? 

Just how much of the Bad Wolf continued to live on in this golden girl of his?

She glanced at him, just a slight cock of her head and turn of her dark eyes, and something about the movement was so animal; the hungry glance of a not-wholly-domesticated creature. Then she smiled, the slow curve of dark red lips, and he found himself dry mouthed and breathless. 

“Doctor,” she murmured, a hand against the back of the couch, leaning over him. Her golden hair fell over her shoulders. “You look just about good enough to eat.”

“My,” he breathed into her mouth as she pressed her warm, soft body against him, her long nails against his neck. “What big teeth you have.”


End file.
